


Destiel? Destiel.

by DrDings (fellSans)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellSans/pseuds/DrDings
Summary: These are a collection of Destiel fics I've written over a period of time. Yes there will be sexy times and things related to sexy times.





	1. Poem: Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Untitled Destiel poem.

_His rough hands glide against my skin_  
_Callouses marred by years of work_  
_My body aches and I_  
_Feel his pulse beating against me_  
_Counter rhythm_  
_There is no more_  
_He has become my undoing_  
_In essence_  
_He has become my breath_  
_And I cannot breathe_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is starting off with a poem, it has no title but I really enjoy it. I got the idea somewhere around season ten and it's written sort of in the perspective of Castiel although Dean could have written it too.


	2. Knights in Dark Satin: Here comes the sin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the sin!

            Swathed in darkness and showered in chaos, the world was ending. Bitter, that’s what it felt like, the taste of alcohol and knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. It was as they said, zero hour. The period of time right at the end where all you can do is wait and feel time stretch out to eternity before you. Nothing felt right. Everything felt broken and crumbling to bits around you and all anyone can do is hope to god you don’t crumble along with it. Dean Winchester stood leaning against a pillar in some motel in Nebraska, his shining jade eyes dulled by the prospects of the future and by the whisky he drank like water. He stared at the door leading out, waiting until it was time to walk out it and fight one last good fight. Sitting on the only bed in the room, the only angel in his life that mattered: Castiel with his rumpled hair and eyes the color of the whole universe contained in a single shade of blue. He sat on the edge facing Dean leaning over his knees with elbows propped up on them. His face was an obscure mess of sadness and anticipation, anxiety wove itself like a blanket around both of them; Castiel felt it and it only made everything worse. He tilted his gaze from the floor to the hard, straight plane of Dean’s back and even from here he felt how stiff and knotted he was, how everything happening around them pulled and corded his muscles rigid.

            The angel swallowed once, the sound of the bed squeaking and sheets rustling as he stood was the only noise in the room besides the sloshing of liquid in the bottle Dean tipped back to his lips again. Silently, he walked towards the hunter almost in slow motion, each step heavy and charged. Dean felt it, this charge in the air and finished off the bottle, his hand falling back to his side. It fell from his loose fingers rolling away from him; Cas bent down and picked it up before placing it on the table. Neither said a word, neither of them had to any more. This was it, the only moment they’d get to share together. Dean turned around, his shoulders slumping only slightly; Cas reached up and cupped his cheek, his eyelids lowering to the angel’s touch. Castiel bent his face upwards, pulling Dean’s down to his. He looked immeasurably sad and the first taste of Dean’s lips tasted bitter sweet. Cas wrapped his other arm around Dean’s waist while Dean pulled the angel closer against his body. Both drank in as much of the other as they could in what little time they had. Unspoken ‘I love you’-s pressed themselves in the nonexistent space between them; they knew for so long neither of them had to say it.

            Castiel turned Dean around and the two slowly made their way back to the bed, parting every so often to remove bits of clothing. Socks and belts littered the floor, a testament to everything between them, each gaze that could have led to something more, a touch here, an ‘I need you’ there... Dean hit the bed and landed on its cheap surface, the feeling of springs pressing into his back. Neither dared give instruction, everything felt right; a  sea of perfect in the world falling to chaos around them. Bare bodies moved against the other, hands roaming over chests, caressing slim hips, clutching desperately to the other. Lips roved over flushed skin, tasting, teasing, biting, gasping; they met desperately and Dean needn’t give the word as Castiel entered him for the first and last time. Slow and sweet, that’s what it felt like. It was everything they could have hoped for, all their unshared dreams of the future shared together. Pictures of a house on a hill, green rolling grasses spreading out as far as the eye can see; the sounds of children playing in the yard... Cas’ hips rolled and pulled and pushed and both bodies moved as one. Dean dug his dulled fingernails hard into Cas’ shoulders, wanting, needing everything the angel could give him and more.

            The feel of their rising pleasures built and Castiel rumbled something out but Dean lifted himself swallowing what sounds Cas made with his lips on his. With each rolling movement, all their ‘I love you’-s and ‘I need you’-s radiated like the heat shared between them out in a thick blanket of desperation. This was it, all of time brought them to now, this moment before jumping over the edge and both felt pleasure’s pull. They saw stars in each other’s eyes. Castiel arched his back and the light of heaven’s grace flooded through him and Dean felt that power rush through him too; he never wanted it to end. Dean pulled Castiel back down to him and pressed each and every feeling into the last kiss of passion they would share. Neither of them wished to move but with dawn slowly approaching, they separated and slowly cleaned up, dressing themselves in much the same manner as they undressed. As the first rays of light slipped through the cracks in the curtains they faced the door together, hands tightly gripped together. The fate of the world rested on their shoulders and yet there was nothing to do but wait for eternity and fight their last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fic written to Nights in White Satin from the Moody Blues. It has nothing to do with the song to my knowledge really but the song made me feel like writing this when I first heard it. It doesn't take place anywhere in the timeline specifically but you can put it wherever you'd like it to go.


	3. Unexpected Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sin? Or future sin. Dom!Cas, Sub!Dean, _I am an angel of the lord; fear my power._

                Dean stood in front of a decrepit wooden table in one of the many hunter’s hidey hole cabins dotted around the country, this one happened to be in the upper peninsula of Michigan near Lake Superior. He had a screw driver in his hand and an old EMF meter resting half carefully taken apart and half torn to shreds with bits of circuitry and frayed wiring strewn over the marred table-top. The eldest Winchester mumbled something under his breath followed by several strings of fuck this, fuck that... if this thing had a mother fuck her too, no don’t fuck her... With his lips pursed he slowly but forcefully let all the air out of his lungs through his nose. Dean was about two seconds from flipping the table and trashing his old EMF meter completely when he heard that familiar rustle of wings and felt another presence standing behind him. Dean turned around and of course Castiel stood near the center of the room much like normal, slightly open posture and a somewhat blank expression on his face. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing _your_ feathery ass?” Dean asked spreading his arms slightly, screwdriver in hand. The angel shifted and took a step forward, Castiel’s expression hardened and changed just enough in the right direction to make Dean swallow.

“C-cas?”

“You have something I want.” His azure eyes radiated with his grace simmering just below his vessel’s skin. They shone with the span of the universe contained to a single body and for just a fraction of a second Dean felt what it was like to see the vastness of space echo out in front of him. Dean felt small, the thought terrified him and at the same time it excited him- white fire searing through his veins, his frustration all but forgotten. Castiel’s eyes narrowed slightly and Dean shifted his posture, shoving the screwdriver in his pants pocket. His weight shifted to one leg and he ever so slightly curled into himself all because of the lone angel standing across the room.  
“And, uh, what would that be?”

The weight of Castiel’s expression as he walked forward smothered Dean, the breath that the eldest Winchester had left his lungs and he could barely stand. “You know what I want Dean.” Castiel had backed Dean up into the table he had his dismantled EMF meter on, some of the parts clattered to the floor as Dean tried to steady himself. “Pick those up.” Cas ordered.  
Dean didn’t know what to do and when Cas barked at him to pick them up again, he stooped to his knees and gathered the strewn circuitry. In the back of his thoughts, he wondered why Cas now of all times chose to pull the soldier of the lord facade and order him around.  

“You know...” Castiel began, his voice as smouldering as his gaze. “I enjoy seeing humanity on its knees.” He forcefully pressed Dean’s face to the floor and forced his ass straight up in the air. A simpering groan slid past the eldest Winchester’s lips and he felt his length twitch in its woven restraints; yes he knew what the angel wanted and damn him to hell if he didn’t oblige.


	4. Shedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is shedding. Exasperated that Dean's not going to help, Sam refuses to let Dean spend his afternoon in his room doing nothing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is an idea that I've seen floating around or mentioned in passing now and then with my various forays into the world of Destiel and it's one that I particularly like. It takes place during the arc where Cas' grace is very limited.

                Castiel’s wings every spring start to itch and he can’t help but violently scratch them. The thick winter feathers need to go but he can’t reach them and has resorted to grinding his back against all the walls in the bunker with small grunting noises in hopes to relieve himself of the loose feathers causing this problem. Of course he has no shirt on and when Sam walks past, he does a sort of double take before pursing his lips and walking off. Dean on the other hand is somewhat oblivious to Cas’ annoyance and when Sam comes into his room to alert him to Cas’ situation, he grunts and looks up from his mp3 player.

“So, Cas is shedding...? What do you want me to do about it?”

“Help him or something I don’t know, he is damn near your boyfriend.” Sam stared down at his brother with a bit of a sidelong glance, he would help out his friend but Dean had to get over his deal with his feelings for Cas.

“Shut your face. He’s not my boyfriend.” Of course, Dean spoke too quickly and his cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Sam refused to move and stood there until Dean got up with a grumble and walked out of his room to Cas who was currently grinding up against a door frame. His arms twitched against half of his wing. Every now and again a strange strangled noise slipped through Cas’ mouth and Dean stood there watching the angel for a few seconds smiling at him before coughing and walking forward.

 

                “Need any help?”

Cas stopped and his shoulder blades twitched harshly before he looked over at Dean, his lips down-turned in annoyance. “Now you ask... I’ve only been suffering for almost a week now.”

“You’re an angel, how the hell was I supposed to know?” Dean retorted, shrugging slightly. “It’s not like you tell me anything, I’ve told you you can ask me for help any time you want you know.”

Castiel opened his mouth and promptly closed it, Dean had told him but he refused to ask, it was his problem and he figured he’d take care of it. And besides, wing grooming was something reserved for those who were extremely close to each other. Hence why he hasn’t asked anyone for help yet. His shoulders twitched rather violently again and he frowned, Dean walking up to him. The eldest Winchester placed his hands on the top of Castiel’s shoulders.

“Tell me what to do Cas. I’ll do it.”

“Fine.” He grabbed Dean’s wrist and damn near dragged him to their makeshift living room.

 

 

                Five minutes later, Cas had Dean sitting behind him and through a strange bit of angel mojo, Dean could see a hazy fog like visage of Castiel’s massive black wings and it was enough so that Dean felt the strange velvety texture of each feather.

“Feel around my wings, if there are any feathers that are loose pull them out.” He gave Dean Instructions in a firm voice, every now and again his tone wavered as another wave of discomfort zipped along his nerves.

“So uh, what if they won’t come loose?”

“Rip them out.”

“Won’t it hurt?”

“Yes.”

Dean blinked but Cas seemed like he didn’t care, he was probably used to it by now. Hesitantly, he dug his fingers into part of Cas’ wings near the end, it felt velvety and rough at the same time, an thin coating of something oily like his own skin’s oil. It felt different than he expected but not unpleasant and he liked it, a lot, especially how Cas seemed to groan a bit, more from discomfort and the drive to satiate this most terrible itch.  He found a few loose feathers here and they came out easily, hardly any force needed. Methodically, Dean went around and pulled all the loose ones out, yanking hard on the ones that needed it. Every now and again Cas flinched and the whole time you could see the muscles in his shoulder twitch. The joints on his back where his wings blended into his back were the worst, they had this slick, almost downy covering of feathers that felt slick from the vessel’s skin oil and the protective coating by the wings itself.  
“God Cas, how the hell do you manage this?”  
“I don’t, not really… I find some place on earth remote that is abrasive enough to rub the feathers out, but I can’t do that now. Not without my grace at full strength.” Cas growled as Dean pulled a particularly stubborn piece of fluff near his left shoulder blade. “You’re almost done.”  
“Good, not that I don’t mind helping, it’s been damn near 15 minutes.” Dean grinned a bit, yanking a few more fluffs off. “You know Cas, I meant it when I said I wanted to help you.” He glanced at Cas’ reflection in the dark TV screen, his body looked tense, his muscles around his shoulders and arms taught like knotted cording. Dean swallowed, hard.

 

                Cas didn’t answer, his mouth opened but he couldn’t form anything to say back to his closest friend and companion grooming him. He wanted to confide in Dean, he really did but, he couldn’t. Dean wouldn’t understand, he was only a human. There was no way he could understand every complex problem working its way through Cas’ celestial brain. “Dean I... You wouldn’t understand. I... I don’t even know how to explain it to myself much less a human Dean, these things are instincts that you would know nothing about and I can’t just tell you.”  
“You could try, hell I’ve had to hear some weird shit so whatever angel business you wanna spill I’m sure I can handle or even try to help explain better.” Dean rested his hands on his lap and looked at Cas again in the TV, a look of worry painted across the angel’s face.  
“Dean... I don’t think-“

“Just trust me ok?”

  
Said angel straightened his face out into a bit of a grimace and blew all the air out of his nose in one go, his body seemed to loosen slightly and Dean took this opportunity to yank the rest of the fluff closest to his shoulders. Cas immediately tensed up again, his shoulders raising up almost to his ears.  
“Cas, man, relax, I can’t get these last bits out if you don’t.” Dean pressed his hands on Castiel’s shoulder, forcing them back down, Cas forcibly tried to relax and Dean yanked out a few more of the fluff bits attached more to his vessel than to the wings. This time when Cas’ body tensed up again, he forced himself back down to normal. The last bits of fluff to yank out were the easiest and when they finished Cas stretched the feathered appendages to their full span, nearly nocking things over in the make shift living room.  
“This is much better, thank you Dean.”  
Dean sat there and blinked, actually a bit stunned on how large Cas’ wings actually were, sure he’s seen shadows before but it wasn’t until he could actually see bits of them manifested that he truly got how large they were. Again, the Winchester swallowed hard. “Y-you’re welcome. So uh are we done for now or are you going to keep this up for a while?”  
“Most of the time when this happens I need to get rid of my loose feathers every day.”  
“So, tomorrow then?” Dean asked hopefully.  
Cas gave a single, stiff nod. “Tomorrow.”


	5. Self Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not a strong man, not always and Cas just so happens to be someone I can lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in a first person perspective from Dean, this one has no real spoilers but it's set in season ten.

_I couldn’t... There was no way in the world that I could continue this way but I have to. I’m still cursed, I still have this damn mark and I have to live with it. It consumes me; it fills me up with this damn buzz. I twitch and my arm aches to hold that fucking blade again, that’s what it keeps telling me; kill, kill, kill, kill. I can’t do it anymore but damn it, I will, for my family, Sammy and Cas. The damn thing makes me feel so unbelievably strong but being helpless against those desires, I feel weak. God, I’m such a fuck up, I can’t.. I can’t even control a damn urge any more. Fuckin dad was right, that bastard was fucking right. I’m no more good than a fucking grunt... Fight the good fight and go down with a gun in your hand. Cept I can’t even do that right. Fuck you Dean Winchester, fuck you you piece of shit, you good for nothin-_

I heard a knock on my door and I snapped my head up, dislodging my hands from their iron grip in my hair.  
“Dean, are you busy? Sam said I should knock first...” He hesitated before speaking again as if to ready himself for something. “Can I come in?”

I hesitated before answering. “Yeah, sure, come in Cas.” My voice sounded rougher than it should have and I’m sure Cas picked up on it because the first thing he did when he walked into my room was look at me with his eyebrows turned down in concern. I looked down.

“I’m worried about you Dean... Sam’s worried too. You’ve been spending most of your time in your room again, you’re barely eating and you’ve almost bought out an entire liquor store this week alone.” Cas’ face didn’t change from that worried expression and his god damn bluest eyes were sad. Those fucking eyes of his could hold more emotions than his face. I looked up at him for that brief second and looked back down.  
“Cas I...” I started, but didn’t finish. I couldn’t finish... It was as if my voice just stopped, my words stuck to some damn webbing and refused to go anywhere.  
“You’re better than this Dean Winchester. The man I met years ago was more than a coward who hid in his room to drink himself away. He was a fighter and wouldn’t go down without at least taking a few swings first.” The angel was right, each word stung like ice against me and I heard my father in my head agreeing with him in the worst ways possible. _God, I’m such a fuck up..._ To my infinite surprise, Cas came into my room fully and walked over to my bed, his new darker trench (Honestly, I preferred the old one ((and his old tie too)) to this one) rustling against my sheets as he sat down next to me. Again, my fingers wound up threaded through my dirty blond hair, threatening to rip out each strand, I couldn’t look at Castiel now.

Weakly, I replied to him. “I can’t do it Cas...” A whisper, the first words that broke the damn that held everything in for my whole life. My eyes were wet and I tried my fucking hardest to keep Cas from seeing me cry. I couldn’t do it, I wouldn’t let him see me weak like this but Cas, Cas didn’t care and he took my hands from my head and pulled me into him and I just let it go. He said nothing, I said nothing. Silent sobs wracked my body and with each heaving breath in, it shuddered out with a painful thought. I didn’t care that Cas held me, I didn’t care that he had his arms firmly wrapped around me, I didn’t care that his chin pressed a little too hard against my scalp. It felt like a rock I could cling to in this fucking storm that is my life. And so I clung for a good five minutes until I couldn’t see straight and all that filled any of my senses was Cas. He heard my thoughts, each damning word that cursed me, that berated me; he heard it all and still just held me.

                Cas eventually dislodged me from his embrace and looked at me, not in any form of disappointment like I thought, or anger but he looked hurt. I could see it in his eyes that all of my thoughts hurt him as if they were an angel blade slicing his skin. Underneath all that hurt, I saw a white hot bead of anger pulsing and for the first time, he looked terrifying. “Do not ever do that to yourself again do you understand me Dean Winchester?” His voice, though deep and gravely was clear as a bell, wrought with the heavenly power I know he possesses and somehow I felt like a child staring up at an angry mother for something I know I did wrong. I swallowed hard and looked down at my lap. “ _Do-you-under-stand-me_?” He said, punching every word out like an order I obeyed. Weakly, numbly I nodded. “Good. Sam’s got dinner in the oven. I think he said it was something to do with chicken and rice. You’re coming down to eat if I have to drag you from your room to do it.”  
I gave a breathy half chuckle, grinned a small bit and in a sort of teasing manner I replied, “Yes sir.”

Cas stood up and pulled me up, standing me on my feet and held my hand firmly in his own. I let him lead me through the bunker to the library, the warmth of his digits seeping into my own, it was comforting and for the first time in my life I thought maybe I did deserve to be saved.


	6. As he lay dying.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Generic fight scene, angst and death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making good on the character death here. This isn't set in a particular time, just an all hell breaks loose fight. It's one of my first Destiel things I have written and I do apologize if this one sounds cliche.

                As the lights flooded from Castiel’s visage, and his grace leaked out of every wound lacerating his flesh, Dean ran over brokenly choking on a few sobs. His own cuts and bruises feeling paled in comparison to seeing Cas fall.

He looked at Dean, he couldn’t speak but the way his eyebrows turned down and his lips tipped into a frown he looked so sorry that he failed to stay alive. Dean couldn’t see who held the blade Castiel fell prey to but none of that mattered because they left his angel dying like any mortal man. Cas’ eyes so vibrantly blue glowed with the light of a thousand angels, it was brilliant and dazzling but it sporadically spat and sputtered dark, winking out like a dying light bulb. In these few moments Dean realized he was going to lose one of the people most important to him, and that thought drove him over the edge. He reached the angel just in time to catch him before he hit the ground. Dean cradled the angel’s limp body in his arms. Unabashedly, tears poured down the hunter’s face running tracks in the grime and blood caked onto his cheeks. They splashed on Castiel’s still face.

“Cas...” “No... God, please... No.... Cas...Cas!” He choked on another loud sob. “Damn it you idiot, you weren’t supposed to die before I was, you’re a friggen angel.” Gripping the angel tighter against his wounded body, Dean roared in agony, anger stitched through his tone. “Damn it! Bring him back! Fucking bring him back you bastard!” More sobs wracked his body. “You were supposed to keep him alive. Please, god, bring him back...bring him back... bring him back.”  Dean rocked back and forth, Cas of course still in his arms; the angel’s blood ran freely from his wounds and soaked into Dean’s clothes but he couldn’t care less. He pressed his face against the top of Cas’ head gently planting a shaky kiss to the dark tresses and threaded one hand up through his hair, pressing his head against Dean’s shoulder. For a while Dean sat just like that, humming nonsensically as if to calm the angel, his bruises and cuts starting to ache from the position he sat in. Flashes of light from beings dying around him lit his peripherals in shimmering doses of color. Sam ran up to him finally and said they need to run or they’d be slaughtered. Dean couldn’t look at his brother but barked at Sammy to go, he’d catch up. Sam’s features down-turned and he swallowed, nodding as Dean stood. Once the younger of the brothers turned away from them, an angel blade pierced through Dean’s chest. He choked on a mess of blood gurgling up his throat and he smiled, a world without his angel wasn’t a world worth living in.


End file.
